Build It Up
by minerrvas
Summary: Not Cedric, but another student from Hogwarts has been chosen along with Harry to compete in the Triwizarding Tournament. That particular student just so happens to be Minerva McGonagall's daughter. (Heavily AU, set in GoF. Main pairings are: OFC/OFC, Amelia/Rufus, past Minerva/Elphinstone and a last secret ship.)
1. Prologue

**Bonjour and thank you for deciding to take a look at this story! As mentioned before, this fic is heavily AU, and while I will alter some events to a certain extent, the basics will, ultimately, remain the same.**

 **I also have a certain fancast (if you want to leave everything to your imagination, simply don't google the names or don't read this at all): Sarah Bolger is my Helena, Sophie Turner my Elenor, Lara Pulver my Minerva (since I follow the books on this one), Sian Thomas my Amelia and Bill Nighy my Rufus (following the movies here). I imagine Minerva to be the youngest of the three, while Amelia is the oldest.**

 **Although this one is set in GoF, I already have some plot points extending to DH planned. After all, there are certain deaths — canon and not canon — I want to cover. ;) And more, of course. Maybe a wedding, of sorts…**

 **I love to tease the audience, but let's not forget the disclaimer: Everything and everyone, except my beloved OCs and plot points, belong to Joanne. I don't earn money with writing** **this** **; my bank account can confirm my statement. I hope you enjoy the reading experience!**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

"You know how badly I wanted it! I worked hard, all the time — ask Professor Sprout if you want confirmation!"

"I'm sorry, but the decision has already been made. Professor Dumbledore has his reasons."

"Don't pretend all of a sudden you had no part in it!"

"I'm not _pretending_ anything. How about we talk this out like mature adults, _since you are one now_ , before you continue to throw around irrational accusations?"

"Who is it?"

"What?" Minerva blurted out, even further irritated by the sudden question.

"Who's going to be Head Girl?" Helena mentally threw her hands in the air. All of it had to be a joke— she was about to start her seventh year at Hogwarts, and now she was supposed to be happy about her going to graduate a mere Prefect? The young witch knew bloody well she was one of the best in her year. She had a name to live up to, after all. Well, even though she was registered as an Urquart, the McGonagall blood ran deep and fast in her veins. Disappointing her mother — simultaneously the greatest witch of her time — was not an option. But what had she done wrong?

"I cannot tell you and you know that," her mother replied sternly, raising her eyebrows like she always did whenever she wasn't amused with a pupil's antics.

"Yes— Yes… I do," Helena admitted, her voice quietening. She quickly looked down and briefly fought the urge to rub the bridge of her nose. Her mind had begun the process of calming down, and while she was ashamed, she also was relieved she hadn't let her anger spiral into a full-fledged tantrum. (She was still working on the anger issues.)

"I'll go to my room."

The words were uttered so incoherently Helena shortly wondered whether her mother had understood them. But it didn't matter, not really. With quiet steps she left the living room.

Minerva sighed and sat down on a ruby-coloured armchair in front of the fireplace. The parlour wasn't big and only a few things served as decoration. Most of the Professor's prized possessions were standing in her quarters up in Hogwarts since she, as well as Helena, had no practical reason to come down to their house in Hogsmeade during the school year. After Elphinstone, bless his soul, had died, Minerva had been tempted to give up the place — too many memories. Yet, she hadn't wanted little Helena to remember her own office as her childhood home, and moving into another house had simply seemed unreasonable. She had intuitively painted the hallway's walls a pastel yellow approximately a year and a half after Elphin's passing, a subtle acknowledgement of his late Hufflepuff persona. Helena especially liked it, considering her father's house pride now lived through her, along with the brown hair and blue eyes.

In her room, said witch was lying on her bed, face pressed into the white pillow. Helena didn't want to show the inanimate objects near her just how red and wet her eyes were, contenting herself with a black vision, which even now seemed glassy, instead of enjoying the orange evening sun shining through her window. Emotional instability…— a breakup did that to you, not to mention the previous scene she had had with her mother. Her former boyfriend of two years had been a Gryffindor, the same house her best friend Nicky — short for Nicole — was in. Succeeding some "dates" (if you could call it that) between the castle walls, their decision to let their relationship develop in more… intimate ways had become indeed official. After a _mistake_ of his, she had promptly ended the love business they had going. It had torn her apart, but at the time, her dignity had been worth more to her than the bond they had shared — however much unstable it had been towards the end.

Hogwarts had really fulfilled its reputation for being unable to keep secrets at that time. She had known the breakup wouldn't go unnoticed, but Helena had hoped for the news to spread at least a bit more slowly. Her mother had known within the span of two days, as well as the reasoning behind it. The Professor hadn't been exactly cruel to her daughter's ex-boyfriend — well —, but she had made her not-so-amused opinion on the matter clear. The ice in her eyes had always been present whenever the boy had been nearby, and detentions had become more frequent. She also had made sure to not let the young wizard come into close vicinity with Helena, even though the latter had been quite good at avoiding him herself. There had even been rumors about him almost having been expelled — though none of the children had really known what had occurred to make that happen. Needless to say, the brunette had felt more than uncomfortable. Pity, when coming from someone but herself, was not an emotion she was able to handle. And pitied she had been plenty.

The girl lifted her head from the now damp cotton and wiped her cheeks with one arm while supporting her upper body with the other. She really ought to set a focus for herself this year to be able to distract herself from her emotional troubles. This shouldn't be too hard since she was going to take the N.E.W.T.s this year. Rolling herself onto her back, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_ on her nightstand fell into her vision. She had yet to buy the seventh edition, but she still had more than a week of time for that. Helena was supposed to catch up on subjects she had no 'Outstanding' in yet, but then again, she wasn't really up to working right now. She pressed the black book to her chest after having picked it up, and then, because she didn't really want to simply read now either, she covered herself with the red-green tartan blanket her mother had once bought her and looked at the blank ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes.

A few minutes later, Minerva opened the door, holding a tray with a cup of fruit tea. She herself greatly preferred the traditional black one, but she knew this one was her daughter's favourite. She hoped it would help cheer the lass up a bit. The woman's hopes were quickly dashed with a look at the Helena's bed, however — she was sleeping. Minerva emitted a low sigh, but put the tray on the girl's nightstand nevertheless. She knew the latter was no stranger to heat spells. Taking a look at the brunette's blotchy face, the elder witch stroked the top of her head worriedly. It didn't take long for her to notice how Helena's eyelids fluttered slightly at the touch, or the sudden unevenness of her breathing.

(The Professor would be amiss in her duties if anything at all escaped her notice, anywhere, ever.)

"Do you want to talk about it now?" Minerva prompted quietly, though she already suspected what the answer was going to be.

"No," Helena mumbled. There was a rawness to her voice. Her eyes remained closed.

"Alright. Drink the tea before it gets cold," Minerva advised, sneaking a last glance at the bairn before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her softly.


	2. Chapter 1

**A lot of conversations and dialogue in this chapter. That's a thing you should know about me: I love dialogues. The idea of two people interacting, reacting, feeling, masking their feelings in another's presence. You'll be seeing quite a lot of that. The first part is supposed to introduce you to the other (main) characters a bit, even though this doesn't happen through descriptions. (I really hate descriptions, so I think it's obvious I enjoyed writing this chapter quite a bit more than the prologue, lol.)**

 **My fancast for Charlize is (don't read this if you want to leave this to your imagination) Cara Delevingne.**

 **I just wanted to quickly post this chapter before me being away for three weeks, completely unable to post any kind of stuff. So, I hope this satisfies you at least a little bit. The usual disclaimer applies.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

"And you're sure the house is empty?"

"Mhm. Mum and Dad are at work — nightshifts — and Bonbon is at a friend's, sleepover or something."

"Didn't she tell you not to call her Bonbon?"

"She's my little sister; she doesn't get to tell me anything."

"Perfect," Charlize said smiling and swung her arm around the redhead's shoulders. Elenor promptly drew the other girl in for a kiss.

"Locate yourself on the couch, Charlie," she instructed in a whisper after releasing the blonde's mouth. Elenor slowly let go of the other witch's arms before disappearing into the kitchen. Charlize looked after her with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

While they weren't exactly a couple, the term 'friends' wasn't enough to describe their relationship. 'Friends with extensive benefits' hit the mark more precisely. It wasn't as though their bond was a forbidden one either — it just was… a secret one. (Except the one time Mrs Bones, Elenor's mother, had walked in on them engaging in more than purely platonic activities. She hadn't told anyone, at least they believed she hadn't, and for that both were grateful.)

"Can I put on the fire?" Charlize asked loudly as she took off her shoes in the living room and slid onto the black couch, looking at the ashes in the fireplace and completely ignoring the floating candles in the room, which currently were the only source of light.

"In summer?" came the disbelieving reply from the kitchen.

"It would be so romantic though," the blonde sighed again and began to play with thin strands of her hair. _Cuddling, making out in front of a lit fireplace on a summer night…_ The ticking of the grandfather clock standing in the room echoed in her mind.

"If you want to reduce yourself to a molten pile of human remains, be my guest. But, fortunately, I know of other ways to warm you up if you so desire. Even in this heat," Elenor said gallantly, coming into the room holding a bowl full of sweets.

"Did you—"

"Put in sherbet lemons? How could I forget."

"You're an angel."

"I know," the redhead countered with a lopsided smile and put down the bowl on a small table in the seating area. A chocolate frog jumped out and was caught by Elenor's hands mid-air.

"I would have been a great Seeker," she said, pretending to sniff.

"I'm sure you would do a better job than that Malfoy brat," Charlize encouraged, popping a sherbet lemon into her mouth.

"Of course I would. He's all bark, no bite," Elenor said, content with the compliment.

"That is, if you weren't afraid of heights," the other witch smirked, playfully moving the sweet inside her mouth with her tongue. Elenor looked mildly scandalized, mainly to maintain the dramatic atmosphere.

"Oh, shut up."

In the next second, a whooshing noise could be heard. The girls looked at each other in confusion before a silvery blue lion appeared right in front of them, its bright light illuminating every corner of the room. They had to blink a few times to adjust, hardly daring to take a breath. In her entire lifetime, Elenor had only ever met one Hufflepuff to have a lion as Patronus: her mother. The voice of said person interrupted the eerie silence.

"There has been a Death Eater attack on the Quidditch World Cup match today. Stay inside, place charms on the whole house. You should know some spells. I have instructed Bonnie not to leave her friend's house until further notice. Your father and I are busy at the Ministry. Floo in case of an emergency — and _stay safe_."

* * *

Elenor woke up to the sun beaming onto her face. Skin was touching skin, and as soon as she opened her eyes, the blond strands of hair obscuring her vision revealed to her where she was — or, to be more precise, in whose arms.

"Goodmorneeng," she mumbled, turning over. The next moment she found herself in free fall — then hit the carpet with a thump. The redhead moaned quietly, trying not to let anything of the yellow material come between her lips.

"Y'alright'here?"

Elenor hummed in the affirmative and slowly hoisted herself up onto her feet. Pulling the red hair from her face, she looked at Charlize, who was smiling at her sleepily from her place on the couch, lying on it, clothes wrinkled.

"You fell asleep on top of me. The bowl isn't even empty."

Elenor quickly looked herself up and down. She, too, was fully clothed. (Oh well…) Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was just past dawn.

"No one came by?" she asked while swinging her ebony wand, checking if the protection charms were still in place. Of course, charms produced by a seventh year would hardly be enough if Death Eaters actually were to show up on the doorstep, but at least the magical alarm would go off, and provide time for escaping. Elenor had doubted anybody would be so bold to attack the house though — there was no logical motive to do so.

"No. We've been alone since yesterday," the blonde responded airily. As if on cue, the fireplace could be heard crackling, the room took on a greenish hue for a moment, and a second later a woman with golden shoulder-length locks stepped out of the emerald flames. Her eyes were of navy blue colour and her lips were covered with dark red lipstick, giving her angular face an even harder edge. Although Amelia Bones usually preferred things to be kept simple, she was still a traditional in some aspects of life — not necessarily fashion in general, but certainly make-up. (Or, well, she just had a fondness for dark lipsticks, particularly cherry-flavoured ones.)

"Hello, Mrs Bones," Charlize greeted nonchalantly. Elenor briefly wondered how she managed that.

"Hello, Charlize. Is everything alright in here, Elenor?" Mrs Bones asked. Both girls noted the slight exhaustion in her voice.

"Yes, everything's good. Dad's still at work?" the redhead said, picking up the half-empty bowl from the table. She deliberately ignored the hungry look Charlize was giving it, how the ocean in her eyes seemed to reach for the sherbet lemons through the white ceramic.

"Yes, the Auror division has been overly busy since yesterday. Speaking of which, do your parents know you're here, Charlize?"

"Yes, actually, though I really should be going. They're probably, uh, worried," the blonde replied, suddenly looking somewhat awkward in her current position on the couch. Elenor looked at her with an indiscernible look in her blue eyes, which had a lighter and colder hue to them than her friend's. Eventually, Charlize decided to stand up — she threw out a sweetish "See you, Ellie" followed by a quick "Goodbye, Mrs Bones" before taking her shoes from the carpet, taking a handful of dark powder from a small brown bag, hopping into the fireplace and disappearing with a flash of green.

"She slept here?" her mother asked (far too suggestively, in Elenor's opinion). She studied the older woman's face for a long moment — no trace of disapproval. But then again, Amelia Bones had always been good at hiding her emotions if she wanted to.

"Yes," the girl answered, quickly adding, "Nothing happened." _Unfortunately._ Elenor gripped the ceramic bowl a bit tighter. She didn't like the direction this conversation was heading.

"Elenor, don't be so defensive about it. Not when you are talking to me, anyway— I'm your mother, I love you, no matter what," Amelia said with pale furrowed brows.

"— And you're not lying?"

"What kind of human being do you think I am?"

Elenor, with her trust issues, thought it best not to respond to this question.

Seeing a chance to exit the conversation, she abruptly turned on her feet and walked into the kitchen, the bowl still in her hands.

"So you're still a couple?" The redhead had to resist racing upstairs and into her room, preferably with a defining slam of the door, as her mother appeared in the doorway from the living room. Bloody hell. What was it with the questioning today?

"Not a _couple_ ," Elenor treated the word as if it were poison, "We're just involved. No certainties." The older witch seemed to be slightly displeased, though the girl wasn't able to pinpoint exactly why.

"And are you planning on telling your father?"

"No." The idea was revolting — after all, her mother's knowledge of their _arrangement_ hadn't been intended to happen either.

"Good. He is too conservative for his own good," the blonde approved, seeming… gratified? Elenor could have laughed. This response sounded so unlike her mother, it was ridiculous. Amelia Bones was and had always been a blunt woman though, so maybe she wasn't just imagining things.

"So you haven't told him yet? Aren't going to tell him?" the girl probed.

"I promise not to. You'll have to do so yourself whenever it's time," her mother answered firmly. Suddenly the redhead felt herself being pulled into a hug. As her head lay in the crook of her mother's neck, which seemed to radiate with warmth, blond locks tickling her whole face and solid arms interlaced around her slim, skinny body, Elenor had to silently admit she only felt slightly uncomfortable, surprised and— relieved.

(Amelia Bones wasn't a hugger. Amelia Bones kept her promises.)


End file.
